They never saw the ocean at all. By the time Zeke got them to the Pacific Coast Highway, Clarissa’s top was down and Jake was suckling on her large nipples while his fingers slid up and down the damp crotch of her black panties. She, in turn, had unzipped his pants and was gripping his erection through the gap in his underwear, feeling the girth of it and liking what she felt.
“Do you want me to suck it?” she asked breathlessly.
“Uh ... sure, go for it,” he said, raising his hips up so she could pull his pants and underwear down and off.
His was not the first dick that had been in her mouth, he surmised as she swallowed him whole. She slurped up and down, down and up, unconsciously moving to the rhythm of the song If You Leave Me Now, by Chicago, which was playing on the radio.
“Oh yeah,” he groaned, his left hand running through her red hair, his right hand up under the back of her skirt and feeling the cheeks of her ass. “This is what it’s all about.”
Before long, her little black panties were on the floor of the limo and she was sitting on his lap, his erection in hand. He was a bit disappointed to find that the drapes did not match the carpet. While the hair on her head was a luxuriant shade of red, the neatly trimmed patch on her pubis was as black as night. He should have known. Her skin complexion just did not match that of a natural redhead.
Not that this was a deal breaker, by any means. Armpit hair, maybe a deal breaker. Leg hair, definitely a deal breaker, but a simple mismatch between pubes and top cover? Never. He pulled a condom out of his pants and, with one hand only, expertly opened the wrapper and applied the product, hardly missing stride in his kissing and breast suckling as he did so. He wasn’t sure if Clarissa even noticed that he had done it.
If she hadn’t, she certainly made no attempt to stop him when he lifted up on her hips and planted her atop his straining member.
“Ohhhh, fuck yeah!” she groaned as she sank down on him, taking him into her dripping wet passage.
“Agreed,” Jake panted as he began to move her up and down.
He gave her his best work, as he always did. Even if it was a cheap one night stand, there was no sense in leaving her with a bad impression of JD King. He let her ride him for a bit, until she was fully lustful and sweaty, and then he laid her down in the plush back seat and hammered into her in the missionary position, using every move he’d developed over the years to draw an orgasm out of her.
“Oh ... God ... God ... Godddddddddddd!” she screamed as she came.
In the front seat, Zeke, a veteran of such shenanigans in his limo, gave a knowing smile and a little thumbs up. He kept driving.
Jake then flipped her over and drove into her from behind, slamming in and out with enough force to actually rock the three ton limo on its springs. This drew another blissful orgasm from Clarissa, and forced Jake to have to struggle with his mental block to keep himself under control.
For the finale, he put her on her back again, her legs tight together and bent upward toward her shoulders while he hammered in and out. She managed to squeak out one more orgasm in this fashion before Jake let the mental block down and allowed him to blast off into the condom.
They cuddled together afterword, still naked from the waist down, finally able to see the darkness of the ocean for the first time.
“That was fucking incredible,” Clarissa told him.
“Yeah,” Jake said softly. “It was, wasn’t it?”
She looked over at him. “Are you for real?” she asked.
“For real?”
“This isn’t just a dream I’m having, right? Because it kind of feels like one of those things that’s too good to be true. I meet a rich, good looking guy in a club, he’s nice, he pays attention to me, and he gives me three fucking orgasms in his limousine while we drive along the ocean. Shit like that doesn’t really happen.”
He smiled and kissed her on the nose. “I assure you, this is not a dream,” he said. He then reached down and pulled the condom off his junk. He tied a careful knot in it and then tossed it into the garbage slot installed in the partition. He would, of course, keep a careful eye on that garbage slot until after Clarissa had exited the vehicle.
She watched this all with a careful eye and then turned to him. “Will I ever see you again?” she asked.
“You most certainly will,” he said lightly. “I enjoyed your company very much. And you’re a wonderful dancer.”
That brought a smile to her face.
“Now then,” Jake said. “Shall we take you home, or do you need to go back to the club to get your vehicle?”
“Uh ... home is good,” she said. “A friend of mine took me to the club tonight. She ... uh ... won’t think it strange that I found another ride home.”
“I see,” Jake said. “Why don’t we make ourselves presentable and then you can tell Zeke where you live.”
They made themselves presentable and then Jake lowered the partition with a switch.
“How are things back there, Mr. King?” Zeke asked, without the slightest hint of knowing in his tone or expression.
“Perfect, Zeke,” Jake told him. “Absolutely perfect. The young lady would like to go home now. Can you take us there?”
“I can,” he said. “Just tell me where home is.”
She named off her address. Zeke did not need to ask for any clarification on where that was. He simply turned in the direction of Santa Monica.
Clarissa looked at Zeke for a moment and then leaned close to Jake. “He wasn’t ... uh ... able to hear what was going on back here, right?”
“Of course not,” Jake assured her—lying through his teeth this time. “Limos are perfectly soundproofed. It’s like we were doing it in a bank vault.”
“Oh,” she said brightly. “That’s a relief.”
The trip to her home took just over thirty minutes. It was a shabby looking apartment complex just off Santa Monica Boulevard. Just before stepping out, she scratched her number on one of the drink napkins.
“You’ll call me?” she asked.
“You know I’ll call you,” he promised, folding the napkin and putting it in his shirt pocket.
They had another luxuriant kiss and then he walked her to her door. They had another at her doorway. He promised again that he would call her.
“I’ll be waiting,” she said, her face glowing as she stepped inside and shut the door.
He walked slowly back to the limo, lighting a cigarette as he went. Zeke was there, holding the door open for him.
“Thanks, Zeke,” he said, sitting down inside.
“Back home, JD?” Zeke asked, once he was strapped in.
“We can go back to Jake now,” Jake told him. “And, yes. Back home will be fine.”
“Very good, sir.”
They pulled out of the complex.
Jake helped himself to a glass of the opened wine. No sense letting it go to waste. As he sipped, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the napkin with Clarissa’s phone number written on. Without even a second glance, he tossed it into the garbage bin where it landed atop the used condom with the knot tied in it.
Chapter 5: Tight Quarters
Coos Bay, Oregon
September 24, 1991
In the bedroom of the hillside house overlooking the Pacific Ocean, Jake’s digital alarm clock clicked over to 6:30 AM and the radio began to play. The device in question sat on the oak dresser eleven feet from the bed. The radio was tuned to 88.7 on the FM dial, which was the local Catholic station that played nothing but Christian oriented music. The volume was turned up to nearly the loudest setting.
“A pleasant morning to all the righteous out there,” intoned the soft-spoken disc jockey to the nearly three hundred current listeners in the greater Coos Bay region of Oregon’s southern coast. “That was Amy Grant with Father’s Eyes—a true classic if ever there was one. And now, to get you up and moving for your day, we have Sandi Patty and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir with their rendition of What A Friend We Have in Jesus. Enjoy.”